


show me where my armor ends

by shxrogane (minsazucar)



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Canon Compliant, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Political Alliances, Post-Canon, Rituals, Slow Burn, i....suppose....it's canon compliant....in my heart....
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-13 08:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minsazucar/pseuds/shxrogane
Summary: “The royal court in Ninua wishes to host my presence, in hopes of kindling a long overdue alliance with the Parsian kingdom.”Arslan stared at the letter with wide eyes, double-checking to make sure his reading was correct. There was no mistaking it. At the end of the scroll, there was a stamp of foiled gold in the shape of an eight-pointed star. It bore a resemblance to the symbol on the wax seal. He wondered what it meant. Surely Narsus would know. He looked away from the letter and up to his trusted advisor.Narsus’ smile had only grown, eyes shining with something cunning.“Your Highness, pray tell, what do you know of the kingdom of Ninua?”---the fake-married au that only 3 ppl in this fandom want. ur welcome.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arahir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arahir/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont @ me im a mess

The afternoon sun poured in through the wide windows, bathing the palace halls in golden light. Countless months had passed since Arslan had returned to Pars, since the grand battle that liberated Ecbatana and placed the young prince on the throne. It had been months, and yet the beauty of the palace, the beauty of _home_ , still filled him with such awe.

It looked different from the palace of his childhood, but he couldn’t determine if it was the palace that had changed, or he. Surely it was a bit of both. The walls of this great palace had hosted the Lusitanians for years, before falling to Hilmes for several more. Now, nearly six years since it’d first been sieged, the halls were alive with the stories of great sorrow. Arslan had been slowly working to change that.

Caught up in his musings, the young king didn’t notice the irritated look Narsus sent his way. Currently, they were in the parlor outside his quarters, having a casual meeting about the state of the nation. It was no secret to Narsus that the king’s mind had wandered, as it was wont to do. The king was eager to remain informed about his kingdom, to learn all he could and prove himself as a more than competent ruler. But he was still so young, barely a year into his second decade of life. 

Narsus cleared his throat and Arslan startled. He gave the man a bashful look, apology on the tip of his tongue. Narsus just sighed and pushed a scroll forward. That seemed to grab his attention right quick. Arslan looked at it curiously, reaching out to touch the unbroken wax seal. It was stamped with the image of an eight-pointed star; not a seal he was familiar with. He looked back up and caught Narsus smiling.

“Well, now that I have your Highness’ attention, I will repeat myself.”

“Sorry Narsus.”

“No matter,” he dismissed the faux paux with a wave of his hand. “What I had just mentioned was that we received this scroll, delivered by a mounted courier, from a kingdom not far from Myamar.”

“Oh? Shall I open it?”

“Please do, my king. I am rather curious what has prompted the land of Ninua to reach out to Pars so suddenly.”

“Ninua?”

Arslan raised a brow at his advisor, but made no further comment. Narsus wore a smile that told he knew _exactly_ why Ninua sent a courier. Arslan was intrigued. He gently broke the foreign seal and scanned the contents of the letter. The scrawl was delicate and elegant, but Arslan found the letter overly embellished and struggled to find the meaning behind the poetic phrases. He reached the end of the prose and only then found the purpose of the letter.

“The royal court in Ninua wishes to host my presence, in hopes of kindling a long overdue alliance with the Parsian kingdom.”

Arslan stared at the letter with wide eyes, double-checking to make sure his reading was correct. There was no mistaking it. At the end of the scroll, there was a stamp of foiled gold in the shape of an eight-pointed star. It bore a resemblance to the symbol on the wax seal. He wondered what it meant. Surely Narsus would know. He looked away from the letter and up to his trusted advisor.

Narsus’ smile had only grown, eyes shining with something cunning.

“Your Highness, pray tell, what do you know of the kingdom of Ninua?”

Arslan frowned in thought.

“In all honesty, not much. I know that although not antagonistic towards Pars, they’ve never sought friendly relations with us. I’ve heard it said that Ninua is isolationist, not wanting to do with the outside world.”

“Well, you are partly correct. Ninua is neither friend nor foe, but not because they isolate themselves. Ninua is a rather prosperous city, known for its wealth in the arts, celestial studies, and architecture. However, they have long found the values of Pars to be rather distasteful.”

Arslan perked up at that. “How so?”

Narsus smiled wryly. “For one, they were not so pleased with the previous kings’ obsession with warfare. They value politics and culture over battles. Then there’s the moral dilemma of slavery. It has been _many_ decades since Ninua did away with the practice. That only served to widen the gap between our two countries.”

“I see… how interesting. After all these countless years, they now send us this invitation…”

“Ninua sends _you_ their invitation, my king.” 

Arslan sat up a little straighter, caught off guard by the sudden weight in Narsus’ voice.

“Although your rule may still be young, word of your legend is sure to have traveled well within their borders. They know you are not Andragoras. Neither are you Osroes. You are not Jamshed nor Kai Hosler, nor any of the past shahs that prided themselves so heavily on military prowess. You are Shah Arslan, who is known both for his might as well as his kindness. They wish to meet with this new shah, wish to see for themselves what kind of change you will bring to Pars.”

Arslan stared at his advisor and friend, fighting not to fluster under the praise. He had worked hard to become who he is today, to become a king his subjects could be proud of. Yet to hear such words spoken so frankly… it was only natural that heat would rise to his cheeks. It was only made worse by Narsus’ knowing smile.

“So, my leige, how will you answer these summons?”

Arslan let out a low breath, straightening his shoulders with resolve.

“I will start at once scribing a proper response. Then, we will begin making arrangements for my absence as I visit the distant Ninua.”

Narsus clapped in delight, standing to make his leave.

“A splendid choice, your Highness. I will have a courier ready to ride within the hour.”

“Oh, and Narsus?” Arslan called out, stopping the man in his tracks. “Find what scrolls or tomes may remain that have any details about this distant kingdom. I wish to read about it more, if possible.”

“Of course, my king. I would expect nothing less,” he answered with a short bow.

They shared a smile, a simple gesture that ran deeper than words. It spoke of something great to come, a new adventure on the horizon, another new beginning for Pars. Arslan couldn’t wait.

 

\---

 

It would take nearly a day for their fastest courier to reach Ninua with the king’s scroll. Arslan anticipated another courier from Ninua within the week. Perhaps it was just his youthful eagerness, but something told Arslan that a matter like this was best to not daddle with. An alliance between Pars and Ninua would be something sung about in their histories for centuries to come. If they were wise, the Ninuan court would not make him wait, just as Arslan hadn’t made them wait.

Even so, Arslan was alight with nerves concerning this endeavor. It had only been two days since he sent off his courier, so there was no use fretting just yet. But his mind was restless as always, and it showed in the way he paced about his quarters late into the evening.

A sudden series of knocks on his chamber doors faltered his steps. He looked at the doorway with raised brows. A formal announcement followed, but Arslan needed no such declaration. He would know the sound of that knock anywhere. He bit his lip to stifle a smile.

“Come in, Daryun.”

After a moment, the wide wooden doors cracked open, allowing the Black Knight to step slowly inside. Although out of armor, Daryun was no less intimidating, his sleeveless top displaying his strength, a broadsword permanently strapped to his hip.

At Arslan’s nod, the knight closed the door behind him, fully stepping into the room. He fell to one knee in a practiced move, crossing an arm across his chest and bowing his head. 

“Forgive me for disturbing you in your quarters, your majesty.”

Arslan rolled his eyes at the gesture. His friend was stubborn as always.

“Rise, Daryun. You know such formalities are not needed when we are alone.”

Daryun tilted his head up, just enough for Arslan to see the teasing smile on his lips. Arslan huffed and walked away, but there was no disguising the smile on his own face anymore. 

Over the course of their travels together, their relationship had evolved. Arslan grew not only more confident as the years passed, but developed a sense of wit that Daryun blamed wholly on Narsus and Gieve. Whoever was to blame, Arslan was sharper for it, and Daryun had grown to match it as well. The knight would never cease being overprotective or respectful, but he allowed their relationship to become looser, much to Arslan’s glee. 

Daryun was one of Arslan’s closest friends, and he knew the knight felt the same, even if he wouldn’t say so.

Daryun chuckled and stood up, following the king to sit at the small table by the balcony. The balcony doors were open, letting in the breeze of a cool summer night. The night air carried with it the smell of fresh jasmine and incense, a pleasing mix of aromas. Not long ago, only the smell of blood and rot had lingered throughout the kingdom. Arslan took a seat as well, focusing back on the present, waiting for Daryun to announce the reason for his sudden visit.

“I heard of the courier from Ninua.”

Oh, so he’d come to talk about Ninua. Of course he had. Arslan smiled, ignoring the strange twist of disappointment in his gut.

“Ah, yes, the court invited to host my presence, in hopes of fostering friendlier relations. What do you make of it, Daryun?” He tilted his head in question, seeking his friend’s opinion.

“I take it as proof that your benevolent reign will bring much fortune to Pars,” he answered with an easy smile. 

Arslan sighed; Daryun was too kind to him. But the knight’s expression sombered rather quickly, capturing his full attention.

“I also take it as an invitation for danger. Your majesty, you will allow me to travel by your side during this visit, will you not?”

Arslan smiled cheekily. “Is that even a question, Daryun? I would have no one else at my side but you.” 

“I’m honored to hear the is still the case, my king,” he answered with his own crooked grin.

“I’m curious, Daryun, what do you know of Ninua?”

Arslan hurried to ask a new question, not wishing for Daryun to dismiss himself just yet. Since retaking the throne, casual talks like this with his knight had grown scarce. It was understandable, of course. Arslan was constantly busy with kingly duties, and Daryun’s new position as erān was nothing to scoff at either.

Daryun frowned, considering his response. Arslan waited patiently.

“Since Ninua has never been a topic of the military, I’m afraid I know frighteningly little of the country. They have a small standing army, one that could never come close to touching the might of Pars. Other than that…”

Daryun trailed off, seeming to think better of his words. Arslan grew ever more curious at that.

“Other than that?” He urged the knight to continue.

Daryun’s mouth twisted and his eyes seemed quite taken by the wood table, suddenly.

“Amongst the ranks, Ninuans were mocked as a frivolous people. A country that concerns itself more with art and merry making than anything else. Men would talk about dreaming to visit Ninua, for even just a day, to partake in whatever debauchery the country boasts.”

“Debauchery?” Arslan asked with a smile, just to make Daryun squirm.

“They were but rumors, my liege. There are not many Parsians in recent history who have actually traveled to Ninua. Any stories known are mere hearsay, tales recounted by minstrels in drunken taverns.”

He waved off the topic rather brusquely, but Arslan wasn’t one to pass the opportunity to tease.

“How curious. This simply makes me more excited to see the land for myself.”

“Of course it would.” 

Daryun grumbled under his breath and Arslan fought not to laugh. Instead, he leaned forward on the table, a playful glint in his eyes as he demanded Daryun’s attention once more. 

“And what of you Daryun? Are you not anticipating this land of _debauchery_ as well?”

Daryun visibly balked at the suggestion and Arslan couldn’t help it any longer, he burst into raucous laughter. The knight groaned, slumping in his seat with a look of distaste.

“Please, your Highness, never say such words to me again.”

Arslan feigned a distressed gasp. 

“Daryun, I dare say you’ve grown too cold towards me.”

“Never, my king. I am nothing but indulgent of you.”

Neither could keep the facade up much longer, dissolving into soft laughter. It felt good to laugh with Daryun. For how serious the man carried himself to be, Arslan knew that he could smile and laugh something wonderful. Sadly, the moment ended too soon, and Daryun stood up with a curt bow.

“I will take my leave now, so you may rest, your majesty.”

Arslan smiled to hide his disappointment.

“Of course, thank you Daryun. Rest well, my friend.”

Daryun didn’t return those words, of course. He never verbally acknowledge Arslan as anything other than his king. But he did give Arslan one last smile before departing, and that was enough. Arslan would have it be enough.

 

\---

 

It was on the fourth day that another courier arrived. The king of Ninua was overjoyed to have their offer accepted so swiftly. As Arslan assumed, sending a prompt reply only strengthened feelings of good will towards the foreign nation. The Palace would begin preparations to accommodate a small envoy from Ecbatana, whenever the Shah wished to travel. However, they urged the envoy to come in two week’s time, as they would then arrive just as one of their illustrious festivals began. 

Arslan smiled as he read the letter to Narsus. His advisor smiled back, continuing with his current painting. Right now, Narsus wasn’t just serving his role as advisor, but also as court painter, advising the young king even as he created a portrait. 

Arslan did his best not to move much from his seat, but the excitement of it all was overwhelming. If he could obtain an alliance with Ninua, it would serve to boost the morale of Pars even further. He had a chance to bring back culture and prosperity to his people, after all their years of suffering.

“I believe I should stop for today. Your Highness is much too jubilant for me to paint properly, even if I do enjoy your smiles,” Narsus sighed, putting down his brush.

“You must forgive me.” 

Although Arslan was relieved the session was over, he still felt bad about interrupting Narsus’ work. But the man just waved him off with a smile, as he was wont to do whenever Arslan apologized.

“Nonsense. Your glee is well justified. Ninua is a beautiful country. Visiting shall be a delight, and an alliance would be even greater.”

Arslan perked up at that.

“Narsus, am I correct in assuming you are one of the few Parsians who have traveled to the enigmatic Ninua?”

“Observant as ever, my lord,” Narsus smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “Yes, nearly a decade ago I traveled to Ninua for a short while.”

“And? What was it like?” Arslan couldn’t help but lean forward in anticipation.

“A city beyond compare, your majesty. A place I do wish to see again, if your Highness allows my company?”

Arslan leaned back with a low chuckle. How could Narsus think he would leave him behind for such a journey? 

“But of course. It would be far from wise to leave you behind.”

“Excellent,” Narsus clapped, standing with gusto. “Now, since I have put aside my paintings for today, let’s begin to discuss the logistics of this endeavor.”

Arslan smiled and finally stood up, his back sore from maintaining one position for too long. He walked over to his work desk and swiftly grabbed a stack of papers. Narsus followed but a step behind, humming softly.

“Well my king, were you so eager that you preemptively drafted documents for my review?”

“Please Narsus, at least _try_ to sound surprised.”

“What sort of tactician would I be if I were caught off guard by something like this?”

Arslan smiled as Narsus took a seat, reaching a hand out for the documents. Arslan knew they would be well occupied for the next several hours. Even if his plans were sound, Narsus always found places for improvement, and the young king enjoyed hearing all his suggestions. He was sure to learn something new every time.

As expected, this time was no different. They spent nearly two hours pouring over Arslan’s drafts, solidifying everything from travel finances, to who would be part of the envoy, as well as who would be left to care for Ecbatana. They would send Ninua another response with traveling details by the morrow. In the meantime, there was still one more thing needed.

“Narsus, would you not prepare a cultural briefing for the envoy party? I wish us all to be at least marginally informed on the customs of Ninua, so as not to cause unnecessary offense.”

Narsus, of course, didn’t look surprised by the request. Instead he radiated a quiet contentment, as if Arslan’s foresight was something he was glad to see. 

“Of course, my liege. I will have it ready well before we depart.”

“Thank you, Narsus.”

With a bow, the man excused himself and Arslan was left alone with his pages of rewrites. Well, he supposed it would do good to get started.

 

\---

 

“Elam!” 

Arslan called out to his friend, waving happily from the palace courtyard. The young man smiled back, equally delighted but still more reserved than the king. It was a habit Arslan had tried hard to break, but Elam would always be stubborn.

“Your majesty. Always good to see you,” he replied politely, bowing his head in greeting.

Arslan let him get away with the formal display, but only because they were in a public courtyard. Arslan had never been one for stringent formalities, but he understood the value now in garnering the respect of the people.

“Well, let’s not delay. Lead the way, sir Elam.”

With another bow, Elam turned and led the way. Today, they would be making their way into the city, an excursion Arslan made sure to take every so often. It did well for the morale of the citizens to see the king actively taking part in assuring their well-being. It also did well to soothe Arslan’s restless mind, to see the continuous progress his kingdom was making. 

As they walked through the streets, they were met with varying displays of glee. The people greeted the pair as they walked by and Arslan always took some time to trade words with as many people as he could. He was pleased to see the general market bustling, to see the entertainment square filled. Elam remained at his side, both pointing out notes of progress and keeping as his personal guard. 

Eventually, they reached the district Arslan most often visited. It was the area of the city repurposed to accommodate the newly freed slave population. When they’d taken back Ecbatana and driven off the Lusitanians at last, Arslan had made good on his decree to free the slaves. Much to the surprise of both lords and common folk, Arslan was strong in his resolve to do away with the trade.

But unlike the way he handled things at Hodir’s fortress so long ago, now he had a plan. It was designed between himself, Narsus and the current Grand Vizier, and although still too early to tell, it seemed to be panning out quite well. The plan was structured to unfold over the course of five years, focused on integrating the free men into society as well as providing means for them to provide for themselves.

Upon being freed, the first year had seen to the relocation of many slaves. The people had a choice to remain in the city and learn new trades or relocate to outside the city walls and in the countryside, where they would be given all that is needed to begin agricultural pursuits. 

Predictably, Arslan couldn’t personally visit the many agricultural lands around the country that he provided for development. He had appointed trusted advisors to oversee those lands instead. But these people were well within reach, and he made sure to attend to several of these matters personally.

“Oh, King Arslan! The king has come to visit!”

Murmured excitement spread quickly through the streets and before long, all sorts of people had lined up to greet their king as he walked by. He waved back and greeted as many people as he could, stopping occasionally to ask how their community was developing and if anything was amiss.

The new citizens of Pars hesitated no longer in conveying their thoughts to the king, so used to these visits they were by now. 

“My king, we had successful sales in the market this past month!”

“King Arslan! Our apprenticeship with the army’s blacksmith is coming to fruition soon.”

“Your majesty, I fear there continues to be ransaking along the backstreets. Families live there, my king, and we are growing worried.”

Arslan nodded along as he heard out those who had something to say. He offered congratulations and condolences, all the while making notes on what work was still to be done. He looked back at Elam, who was furiously scrawling in his field notebook.

“Are you catching all of this, Sir Elam?” He asked with a wry smile.

“But of course, your Highness,” he answered through grit teeth.

Arslan laughed.

Generally speaking, the first year and a half of his reign had gone rather well. Much of the capital city had been rebuilt, lives had been restored, and peace was at last spreading steadfast throughout the kingdom. As expected, the source of continued conflict had to do with the reintegration of former slaves.

Through law and enforcement, abolishment of the actual trade and practice wasn’t difficult. Personal prejudice, however, would always be progress’ truest foe. It was this part, the changing of people’s hearts, that Arslan found most worrisome.

They finished their rounds through the streets in just under an hour and set back for the castle. The sun was already beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the city in a hazy golden glow. The two walked in a companionable silence, but a thought weighed on Arslan’s mind. He looked over at his friend and broke the quiet.

“We leave to Ninua in less than a week. Any thoughts, Elam?”

Elam paused, slowing his steps slightly to walk by Arslan’s side. He smiled gleefully.

“Excitement, my lord, of course. You know I do love travel to foreign lands.”

“I do. Which is why I recommended you be part of the envoy. But there’s another reason I chose you Elam.”

“Oh?”

Arslan nodded. “Pars is growing more peaceful by the day, of this I am immensely joyful. However, we cannot make the mistake of thinking the unrest towards the new free folk will subside on its own.”

Elam frowned at this. They often shared discussions on how to proceed in the next few years, exchanging worries about a social caste forming in the city. If former slaves and their descendants were to be regarded by the people as second class citizens, even if by law they were free men, then had they really made progress? Had they really changed Pars for the better?

Arslan continued his thought.

“There are many reasons to visit Ninua. One of the many is due to the fact that, like Pars, Ninua once hosted a slave system of its own. Yet, many decades ago, they were able to abolish slavery and still maintain a thriving economy.”

Arslan smiled at him, imploringly, and Elam’s eyes lit up in understanding.

“You wish to see the city and inquire after the wisdom of its officials.”

“Exactly. Pars can stand to learn much from our distant neighbors. I have high hopes for this trip.” Arslan nodded, eyes glittering as he looked back toward the horizon.

“It’s hard not to have high hopes, based on the information Lord Narsus has imparted on us thus far,” Elam laughed.

“Yes, his briefing was nearly as informative as it was tantalizing. It just made me ever more eager to depart and see this city for myself.”

“And I am eager to accompanying you, my king.”

Arslan chuckled, remembering the briefing held just days ago. Elam seemed to have the same recollection, joining in with his own mirth.

“If Ninua is so devoted to worshipping love as much as reports say they are, our stay is to be most entertaining,” Arslan laughed.

“If nothing else, the look on Lord Daryun’s face will be enough to keep me entertained for weeks.”

He looked into his friend’s eyes, alight with mischief. During the briefing, although much was claimed to be nothing more than hearsay, Ninua was depicted to be quite the frivolous city. The way Daryun had paled at the information, the way he’d scowled in discomfort, was a topic of much of their teasing now. 

Arslan’s heart fluttered at the memory, in a way that was far from the joking manner they’d been discussing. He pushed the feeling away. There was a time and place for those thoughts. He focused back on his friend in front of him and carried on the conversation.

They shared their stories and continued toward the palace. Their awaited day of departure could not come soon enough.

 

\---

 

The day before they were to depart came and went in a flurry of activity. Arslan was swept from meeting to meeting, finalizing arrangements for his leave from Ecbatana. Had he not been such a hands-on king, half those meetings wouldn’t have been necessary. Only now, late into the evening, did Arslan find himself back in his quarters, taking a moment to rest. He would have to get up eventually, to start packing his bags. But his bed was so comfortable…

He sighed and dragged himself off the plush comforters. The sooner he started packing, the sooner he’d be done. He could’ve had attendants to complete these small tasks, but over the years of all his travels, Arslan had grown accustomed to packing his own bags. In many cases, it had been a much needed moment of privacy and reflection. Just him and whatever belongings he had acquired along the way.

Even now, it was very much the same sentiment. As he rummaged through his belongings and set out what he wanted, his mind quieted until it was focused on the task at hand. Much of his clothing was new, gifted to him once he ascended the throne. But his favorite garments were those threaded with memories, from his journeys and events mundane alike.

Silks from their trip to Sindhura. Jewelry from their encounters with nomads along the border. Dozens upon dozens of memories were woven into the cloths, and Arslan smiled with nostalgia as he methodically folded and packed them up. They would be in Ninua for over a week, so Arslan took care to pack accordingly, wanting nothing more than to look presentable to the royal court. First impressions were greatly important.

However, as he continued packing, he noticed an embarrassing trend. That red tunic, those gold bangles, a sapphire sash… the list went on and on, as he realized that much of the clothing he’d packed was somehow tied to Daryun. A tunic that was a gift from Daryun, a red shirt that Daryun said looked fierce on him. A silk robe Daryun had smiled at. Jewelry that Daryun had once said “is suited for a king like he.” 

As he tucked the clothes into his bag, he couldn’t help but think of himself as foolish. Here he was, a king, the leader of a nation, who couldn’t seem to stop indulging in such small attentions from his knight.

Over these many years, Arslan has cared for all of his friends and followers. Each and every one of them held a special place in his heart; each and every one of them was a recipient of his endless affection. Yet he would be lying if he couldn’t admit his affection for Daryun was a bit different from the rest. Somewhere along the way, things had changed. Something had shifted. Deepened, expanded. When he looked at Daryun, he saw more than his loyalty as a knight, more than his affection as a friend.

When he looked at Daryun, his stomach swooped, for no reason at all. He saw the kindness of his heart, something that Daryun didn’t try to hide yet was somehow hard for people to see. He saw the sincerity in every smile, the pure hearted joy in every laugh. He saw the man he grew up with, and the man who had become something _more_.

In all honesty, Arslan was quite aware of what his heart sang. It was a tune he had long been unfamiliar with, though he heard it played with others. How could he not know, when it was becoming so obvious? But still… 

He tucked away those emerging feelings, just like he tucked the clothes into his bag and sealed them shut. Yes, Arslan knew the song his heart played, but he refused to listen to it, refused to let more than a melody trickle out at a time. Because if he ever let it go, let the deep love he felt consume him, it would be much too painful to face the reality of it never being returned.

Only in moments like these, in the quiet solitude of his chambers, would he allow himself to hear a verse, to sing the words his tongue so craved. It would do no good to linger on these thoughts. They would only distract from his mission and inconvenience the group. 

Thinking about being near Daryun again, for such an extended period, was as dreadful as it was exciting. He felt like he was 15 again, setting out on a new adventure with his faithful friends. Indeed, it would be delightful to see the group nearly all back together again. But he would have to steel himself for it. 

In the capital, he and Daryun didn’t see as much of each other as one would think. Arslan had his duties as a king, and Daryun his duties as erān. Their duties would occasionally overlap, of course, but there were many times they would not see each other for weeks. It would be wonderful to be able to see more of the handsome knight during their travels. Yet it had Arslan questioning how to conduct himself in front of the man. They were friends they had been for _years_ , but this stubborn distance between them, along with Arslan's own tumultuous heart...

Arslan shook his head with a wry sigh.

They were friends, and nothing more. It would do no good to keep thinking any other way. For tonight, he focused on the excitement of being reunited with his old traveling troupe. Every member chosen for the diplomatic envoy was selected for a specific skill or reason; the fact that all members selected were part of Arslan’s original group was just wonderful coincidence. 

Narsus, of course, was an obvious choice for the envoy group. Elam was the next choice, both since he still unofficially served as Narsus’ assistant, but also because of his familiarity with the slave rehabilitation system. Daryun, despite his position—or perhaps _due_ to his position—as erān would also be attending to guard the king personally. Farangis would be joining them since they thought it would be best to have a priestess as a representative; after all, what little was known of Ninua included that the people were quite spiritual and dedicated to their deity. Alfarīd probably wasn’t absolutely necessary, but she went everywhere Farangis went nowadays, so her attendance was a given.

All they were missing was Gieve. Arslan sighed as he finally finished packing and tucked himself into bed. He hadn’t seen the traveling minstrel in well over six months now. It was no secret that the man never intended to stick around and gain a formal position in Arslan’s court. Gieve would still visit time to time, reporting on things he’d seen while traveling the country. But to be gone for so long did make Arslan miss him greatly. His absence would surely be felt during this trip.

Arslan did his best not to fret over small details. He would need to rest for the long journey tomorrow. So despite his anxieties and excitement, he burrowed further into his cushions and willed sleep to come. And if he dreamt of dark hair and golden eyes, well, no one else would have to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo whats up my name is sari and arlsan senki owns my whole entire ass
> 
> there's absolutely.......no plan for when i update this mess. just know my outline is for 10 chapters or so. updates will depend on how busy i am/how often i can write. just putting that out there.
> 
> ofc dedicated to jojo arahir bc its what she Deserves


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is longer than i anticipated but daryun's pining took a good 4.5k to develop so yeah....

The sun shone bright in the east, steadily rising in the clear blue sky. There was a slight breeze, pleasantly cool on an otherwise warm day. The air was dry and light, a sign that they would not be surprised by sudden rain any time soon. It was a perfect day for travel. 

Daryun methodically prepared Shabrang for their journey, occasionally glancing up to take stock of his surroundings. Slowly but surely, their group was taking form as it got closer to their departure time. Elam was outside tending to the other horses. Narsus stood a distance away, hashing out some last minute details with the grand vizier, Lord Lucian. Lady Farangis and Alfarīd were still missing, but they would arrive soon enough. 

Then there was Arslan, _king_ Arslan. He had just arrived, flanked by officials as one would expect, considering the city was about to lose their king for a time. Daryun observed the way he carried himself with such poise, the strong set of his shoulders, the ease with which he moved. It was so different from the boy he’d sworn allegiance to, all those years ago. The potential they’d all seen in him from the beginning had finally flourished for all to see. 

Yes, he’d certainly grown to be a fine young man, had finally filled the shoes which had always felt too big for the young prince. Daryun also couldn’t help but notice how handsome he’d grown to be as well. 

Around his 17th year, Arslan had finally hit his growth spurt, nearly reaching Narsus’ height by now. Gone were the rounded curves of boyhood, replaced with sharp edges. His eyes, still the color of a clear night sky, had wizened with age, but had always remained kind. His silver hair now grew down his back, adding to his graceful physique. For this trip, it was swept back into a loose braid, glistening in the sunlight.

Daryun knew he was staring. It had become a habit as of late, watching the king from a distance. Today, he couldn’t help but indulge for a moment more. There was something so nostalgic about it, seeing all these people back together again, still the same yet so very different. The case was the same with Daryun; outwardly he appeared the same, but surely it could be seen how his heart had changed.

Arslan had finally freed himself from the gaggle of lords and now stood talking with Elam. The young king laughed at something and Daryun felt captivated by that look of joy on his friend’s face. In his momentary lapse of control, Arslan looked over, those midnight eyes landing immediately on him. Their eyes met for but a second before he promptly looked away.

He refused to acknowledge the way his heart pounded in the aftermath. He quickly composed himself and finished saddling Shabrang. But apparently he hadn’t composed himself fast enough, if the smug grin on Narsus’ face was anything to go by. 

Daryun nodded at his friend but otherwise ignored the man, taking Shabrang by the reigns and leading him out of the stables. Narsus, being the nuisance he was, simply followed him out, humming a pleasant tune. Daryun wasn’t fooled. He knew what the man wanted to say.

“So, my friend, I couldn’t help but notice that the king is wearing that pendant you gifted him many years ago.”

“Narsus.” Daryun narrowed his eyes in warning.

The man held up his hands in mock surrender. Still, he wore that irritating smile.

“I’m only making an observation. I haven’t seen that pendant in a long while, it really is quite lovely. The green gems really compliments his majesty’s complexion.”

He waved around his hands, the way he did when talking about his so-called “art.” Daryun sighed something weary.

“Narsus, enough. He wears it because it holds protective magic. That was the whole reason I gave it to him in the first place,” he explained for the upteenth time.

“Oh yes, of course, how silly of me to forget,” the man laughed.

Daryun was a fool to think the conversation would end there.

“Your Highness!” Narsus called out and Daryun froze. “Why, what a lovely pendant! So good of you to wear it today. I haven’t seen it in ages.”

It took every ounce of self-restraint for Daryun to not immediately kill Narsus on the spot. But then Arslan was smiling and walking in their direction.

“Ah, yes. Well I actually wear it most every day, though usually it’s tucked under my robes. I suppose I forgot to hide it today,” he laughed, fidgeting with the pendant.

Narsus looked absolutely ecstatic.

“Don’t hide it away, my liege. It really looks charming on you, wouldn’t you say, Daryun?”

Narsus nudged him in the ribs and Daryun had half a mind to break his arm altogether. But then he noticed Arslan’s attention on him, noticed his flushed yet slightly hopeful expression. He felt his mood soften almost immediately.

“Yes, it suits you, my king.” Daryun smiled softly before clearing his throat. “Also, it would do well to let the gem absorb some sunlight. It strengthens the protective powers.”

“Yes, of course, thank you Daryun,” he nodded, touching the pendant again. It glittered a pure emerald where the sun hit it, reflecting in his midnight eyes.

Daryun barely forced himself to look away by bowing his head. “Not at all, my king.” 

He avoided looking directly at Arslan again, but that meant his gaze fell on Narsus instead. His friend looked ready to say something more, something cunning on the tip of his tongue. Thankfully, Daryun was saved from further aggravation by the arrival of the rest of their envoy party. At the sound of their approach, Arslan turned and hurried to greet them with a wide smile.

“Lady Farangis! Alfarīd! How good to see you.”

The two women dismounted as the king approached, greeting him with a bow and bright smiles.

“And you as well, my king.” Farangis gently replied, delight evident in her green eyes.

“It’s been too long!” Alfarīd exclaimed, patting Arslan heartily on the back.

Arslan happily chatted away with Alfarīd, and soon they were joined by Elam as well. The three were easily occupied with their own conversation, not even noticing how Farangis slipped away with a gentle smile. The priestess approached the two older men, tipping her head in greeting.

“I trust my lords have been well?”

“Very well, my lady. Thank you for asking.” 

Narsus smiled and Daryun sent him a sneer. Farangis crinkled her eyes in amusement.

“I see you are still provoking Lord Daryun. Did you not learn from that duel last year? Do not shake the cage holding a tiger,” she drawled in that ominous tone of hers.

“Wise words indeed.” Narsus nodded solemnly.

Farangis turned her eyes on Daryun, giving him a look over and humming. He fought not to shrink under her gaze. Her ability to read him was frightening. She regarded him with a wry smile.

“And I see our dark knight’s heart is still unchanged since last we met.” Her eyes darted back to Arslan, making her intended meaning quite clear. Daryun sighed.

“Lady Farangis…”

She held up a hand, cutting off his low warning.

“I am no fool, I will not provoke you. Let us enjoy this journey together. The Djinn sing us their blessings.”

The soldiers set to accompany their envoy arrived at last, and then the party was ready to depart. Lord Lucian and Kishward were there to see them off, and Daryun relaxed into his saddle knowing Ecbatana would be left in good hands. It seemed too that Arslan shared the sentiment, offering an easy smile to his trusted officials before setting off.

As they approached the city gates, the group fell into their routine formation, an unconscious shift after so many years of travel. Narsus and Elam took the lead with some soldiers. Lady Farangis and Alfarīd brought up the rear with the rest of their company. Azrael flew in circles overhead, crowing happily. 

King Arslan rode in the center of the formation, with Daryun at his right side, as always.

 

\---

 

The journey to Ninua was expected to take three days. Unlike a courier, they would not be riding at full speed, non-stop. They rode their horses at an easy pace, heading westward toward the Continental Highway. Once they reached the highway, they would follow it northwest, until the Tygrus river was in view, which they would then follow the rest of the way north to Ninua’s gates. These were the directions given to them by Ninua’s king, scouted and cleared by patrols ahead of time.

The first stretch of their journey took them through mountainous terrain, scant foliage lining their path. Overall, it was an uneventful day. They ran into few travelers, passed through a few villages—in which Arslan insisted they stop to give a proper greeting, since the king so rarely saw these rural citizens of his—and all around, ran into very few troubles on the road. But the peaceful day thus far did nothing to lessen Daryun’s defenses. 

They made good progress before the sun began to dip beyond the horizon and Arslan gave the order to rest for the night. Camp was set up quickly and efficiently, and by the time the skies were fully dark, fires had been made and dinner served. The evening was passed peacefully, with little conversation floating around. About midday, the temperatures had increased, so everyone was understandably a bit fatigued from their long ride. Most everyone turned in early.

First watch was to be covered by some of the soldiers, but Daryun saw fit to join them. He’d felt a bit restless all day, though it had little to do with the journey, and everything to do with the man riding next to him. He walked a few laps around camp, hoping to outpace his racing thoughts. But alas, they would not leave him in peace until he reflected on them properly, it seemed. Such was how the mind worked. 

He sat by the fire with a weary sigh. He watched the golden flames dance and let his mind wander to where it would. Unsurprisingly, it wandered to thoughts of his Highness. He’d been caught up in nostalgia nearly all day; it was hard not to think about how much things had both changed and stayed the same.

Arslan had grown into a fine king. His wisdom, foresight, and determined resolve had truly grown over the past several years. Yet, for all his growth, his kindness and compassion had always remained. For that, Daryun was grateful. A ruler like Arslan was rare, and he could only imagine how fortunate they were to serve under such a man in their lifetime. 

Arslan was kind, and wise, he was generous yet decisive, strong in his morals. It was no wonder that, in time, Daryun had fallen for him.

It was difficult to discern exactly where along the line things had gone wrong. Where exactly did he lose himself so completely? He’d always cared for Arslan, of course, but when had that loyalty transformed into an affection that ran so much deeper? A year ago, two years ago? He doubted it began when Narsus had first began teasing, nearly three years ago. It surely couldn’t have been that long.

Or maybe, as Narsus had said to him back then, he’d just been blind to the wanting of his own heart.

He bit back a groan and tipped his head back to gaze at the stars. While in Ecbatana, Daryun was ashamed to admit, he made a point of not spending extended amounts of time with his Highness. It wasn’t good for his heart, and it wouldn’t make those feelings he harbored pass by any easier. For as much as Narsus teased and prodded him to confess, Daryun knew he’d do no such thing. Arslan would never find out about his affections, not as long as Daryun could help it. 

It was simply ridiculous, the thought of a legendary king like Arslan taking interest in a lowly knight such as he.

The sound of approaching footsteps brought him out of his thoughts, and he turned around to see none other than Arslan walking up to him. His heart did a complicated somersault routine before settling down.

“Could you not sleep?” Arslan asked with a soft smile, settling next to him by the fire.

“Your Highness,” Daryun greeted with a dip of his head. 

He winced inwardly at the awkward greeting, but it had always proved best to default to formality. It was practiced, it was safe.

“Daryun, please,” Arslan chided with a smile; that was Daryun’s cue to drop titles. “I couldn’t seem to sleep either.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, too afraid to speak lest his voice break. Arslan accepted the silence and they sat together for a long while, just watching the fire and enjoying each other’s company. Despite his best attempts, his eyes kept wandering to the young king. He couldn’t help but take in how the fire cast a golden glow over his face, reflecting in those clear eyes. His hair, now loose around his face, shone like a halo in the lowlight.

“This is all quite nostalgic, don’t you think?”

Arslan’s sudden question broke the silence, startling Daryun out of his thoughts. But the young man hardly noticed, still enraptured by the dancing flamed before him. 

“Yes, I was thinking just that earlier today,” he answered, once he regained his composure.

“Everyone is here again, ready to serve by my side. It is quite an honor to have gained such loyal companions.”

He looked away from the fire, pinning Daryun with a sincere smile. He couldn’t help but smile back just as honestly.

“For us, it is quite an honor to serve such a righteous king.”

Arslan’s eyes widened before melting into a soft expression.

“Thank you, Daryun.”

They drifted once more into a comfortable quiet, watching the fire and stars in turn. Daryun remembered when occurrences like this used to be commonplace. Those years spent on the road saw many nights like this, when sleep failed to find Daryun and Arslan both, instead seeking solace in each other’s presence by the campfire. 

He let his gaze linger on Arslan once more. His cheeks were flushed, either by the cool night or the warmth of the fire. Something about the setting had Daryun feeling strangely sentimental; he was a little drunk on nostalgia, loose lipped and full of adoration.

The next thought left his lips before he could catch it.

“You have grown quite handsomely, my king.” 

The compliment came out softer than he intended, the breathless quality giving a different meaning to the words. Daryun’s face felt warm, but he knew it didn’t show so easily on his skin tone. Not like it did on Arslan, an attractive red spreading over his cheeks and ears.

“O-oh, well, thank you.”

He looked up bashfully, smiling before looking back towards the fire. He tucked a lock of silver hair behind his ear and that’s when Daryun felt the full weight of his words sink in. He scrambled to lighten the implication, to somehow change the sentiment to something safer. Something not so honest.

“I mean that, in character, you have grown into your ideals. You wear your values well.”

Arslan looked back up at him with wide eyes and Daryun fought not to look away. He could bear this weight, could bear anything for the man in front of him. Arslan smiled something soft and leaned forward a bit.

“Really, it is all thanks to those who have watched over me thus far. It is all thanks to _you_ , Daryun.”

He couldn’t help but fluster at the sincerity in his voice. It was only then he noticed how close they were, having slowly gravitated toward each other over time. The setting was a touch too intimate for comfort, too close to the line Daryun had kept well defined between them; and yet, he couldn’t seem to move away, couldn’t quite find the strength to put the distance he knew needed to exist between them.

“I hope we’re not interrupting anything important.”

Like a cord suddenly snapped, Daryun and Arslan sprang apart, right as Narsus came into view over the fire. Elam followed close behind, and at least he had the sense to look apologetic about the intrusion. 

“Of course not. Join us. We were simply reminiscing about days long past.”

Daryun felt conflicted. He wasn’t too sure if he wanted to thank Narsus for interrupting, or punch him in his smug face. He settled for quietly seething as the two men sat down opposite of them.

“It does bring back memories, doesn’t it?” Elam mused, echoing their previous thoughts.

“Yes, nearly everyone is back together for this trip,” Narsus added, still focused on Daryun with a strange look.

“All we are missing is sir Gieve.”

They all turned at the sound of a new voice, watching with amusement as the stoic priestess joined their circle next, Alfarīd close behind. She gracefully placed herself next to Daryun, offering a small smile.

“Ah, Lady Farangis, could it be you miss that charming minstrel?” Narsus asked with a chuckle.

“It has been long enough that I can admit I do,” she smiled wryly.

“How long has it been now?” Alfarīd mused.

Elam pursed his lips in thought. “I think we last saw him before the new year ceremonies, already several months past.” 

“This is the longest he’s ever gone without sending so much a letter to one of us,” Arslan spoke lowly, smile tinged with sadness.

“Don’t worry yourself over Gieve, your Highness. He’s too crafty to be caught up in anything he can’t get himself out of.” Farangis soothed his worries with a smile; she’d always had a soft spot for the young king.

“You’re right.”

He offered Farangis a smile in return, though worry was still evident in the lines under his eyes. Daryun was sure everyone else noticed it as well, since they were quick to introduce new topics of conversation. They talked about a variety of things, catching up on how they’d been, reminiscing with old stories, and sharing their dreams for the near future. 

Arslan’s spirit lifted noticeably as the night wore on. He relaxed into his seat, laughing and smiling with the rest of the group. Seeing him so comfortable made Daryun feel a warmth bubble in his chest. He was too incredibly fond of this man.

The fire eventually died down and with it so did the energetic atmosphere. Arslan was the first to show signs of fatigue, visibly nodding off as he leaned into Daryun’s side. Narsus chuckled from across the fire pit and Daryun scowled at him.

“It seems like our king hasn’t been getting much sleep recently.”

At Narsus’ words, the others all turned to look at where Arslan lay, breathing softly on Daryun’s shoulder. The knight sighed fondly and gently jostled the man awake.

“Your Highness, you must sleep now. Come, I’ll escort you to your tent.”

Arslan sat up quickly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He glanced around the group with a bashful smile and laughed.

“Oh, yes, thank you Daryun. Goodnight everyone.”

Arslan waved as they walked away, oblivious to the teasing looks being thrown their way. Daryun pointedly ignored them, focused on walking Arslan back to his tent, and nothing more. Now, away from the campfire, Daryun couldn’t help but to notice how truly tired Arslan looked. The shadows under his eyes were more prominent in the pale moonlight. He frowned as they stopped in front of the man’s tent.

“Your Highness… ” He paused, and then tried again, “Arslan. Are you feeling alright?”

Arslan blinked up at him, a pleased twinkle in his eyes. He very much seemed to enjoy when Daryun used his name, no matter how embarrassing it was for the man.

“Yes, yes I’m fine. Sorry to worry you.” 

He smiled encouragingly, but it didn’t completely disguise the underlying stress. Try as he might, he couldn’t fool Daryun.

“Getting proper rest is important,” he continued softly, “Your strive to be a righteous king means nothing if you cannot care for your health.”

Arslan huffed, amusement tinging his grin.

“Yes, I understand. No more nagging. I’ll sleep, I promise.”

Daryun smirked at the fake annoyance, but his next words were sincere.

“Let this trip to Ninua serve as a respite from your regular duties. You may focus on diplomacy, but also focus on relaxing and enjoying yourself.”

“Alright, I’ll do my best.”

This time when Arslan smiled, it was genuine.

“That’s all I ask. Goodnight, my king.”

Arslan rolled his eyes at the return of formality.

“Goodnight, _my knight_.”

With that, Arslan entered his tent, leaving Daryun frozen in place right outside. He released a harsh exhale through his nose and turned away. He was such a fool. To think he would react so strongly to being called _my knight_ … He stalked away toward his own tent. Sleep would not come easy tonight, but perhaps it would be fine, so long as he was able to sort out his jumbled heart.

 

\---

 

Daryun exited his tent early the next morning feeling surprisingly less wound up than the previous day. What he thought would be a restless night turned out to be anything but. When he’d reached his tent last night, he’d taken it upon himself to meditate, rather than stew in his own self-pity. His feelings towards Arslan had been developing, had been _flourishing_ for years now; it would do no good to get distracted by them _now_.

He walked a short distance away from the main campsite and set about to circling the perimeter. The sun rose slowly, casting a pale glow over the still dark horizon. Within the hour, the camp would be bustling with life, everyone waking with the morning light for another day of travel. He took the moment of peace to settle his mind before the day truly began.

Daryun knew his lot in life and he was perfectly content with it. He was a warrior, a knight, a protector and defender. He was erān, he was Arslan’s right hand. He wouldn’t trade his role for anything in the world. He’d been Arslan’s personal guard for too long now to imagine anything different. He would settle for nothing else in his life but to stay by his king’s side, to be his sword and shield until the end of time.

He shook his head to dislodge that current train of thought. But he’d found his resolve, found the dedication needed to continue to hide his heart from his majesty. It was foolish now to think he would ever consider doing otherwise, but last night had been a moment of weakness. Something he would be sure to never repeat again. He took in a measured breath and kept walking.

The air was crisp, still tinged with cold from the fading night. On a whim, Daryun wandered a bit further from camp than he usually would. He continued circling the perimeter from this new distance. The movement helped clear his head. 

Halfway through his round, he noticed something off. There, hidden in the underbrush, were footprints. Daryun narrowed his eyes but didn’t linger by them. He kept walking at an even pace, but he focused on the underbrush, following the trail of footprints. As he suspected, they continued in a mimicry of the camp’s perimeter before disappearing.

Someone had been scoping their encampment.

It was far enough from their perimeter for Daryun to be sure it wasn’t the work of their own men making their usual rounds. He frowned and kept walking. There was no way to know if their pursuers were still nearby, if they were watching him right now. In these situations, he’d learned it was best to make the culprits believe that they had won. Daryun would act like nothing had been discovered; when the culprits made their move, _they’d_ be the ones caught off guard.

He made his way calmly back into camp. As expected, the place was bustling with life as the bright morning light washed over the land. He easily spotted Narsus at the center of the activity, directing men as they tore down tents and packed up. He approached his friend, casually taking up the space to his left, and they stood together in momentary silence. Then Narsus nodded, nearly imperceptible, but it was the cue Daryun had been waiting for.

“On my walk of the perimeter, I noticed some footprints that do not belong to our men. It would seem that someone is trailing us,” he reported in a low voice, so as not to be overheard.

Narsus hummed and smiled, as if Daryun had just told him something amusing. It was all but a ruse, of course, to confuse any attention thrown their way as to the true nature of their hushed conversation.

“Best to keep our guard up, but act so as to not tip them off. We know not if this is an outside force or a clever infiltrator.”

Daryun nodded. “My thoughts exactly. Be discreet in whom you inform.”

At that, Narsus sincerely laughed. “Lord Daryun, discreet is my middle name.”

Daryun rolled his eyes, but Narsus walked away before he had the chance to retort. He sighed and looked around the half deconstructed camp. There was still much work to be done. Daryun returned to his own tent and began helping the footsoldiers pack up. The envoy needed to be ready to depart within the hour to keep on schedule.

Once everyone joined in to help— even king Arslan, much to the disgruntlement and amusement of everyone—the group was ready to set out once more. Daryun mounted his steed and took his place at Arslan’s right side. They continued down the westward road at a steady pace. By midday, the lay of the land had changed quite obviously.

Rocky, barren mountains gave way to lowlands filled with greenery. A few people made passing comments on the beauty of the western lands, but Daryun couldn’t appreciate the new geography quite the same. Where others saw lovely, rich foliage, the knight only saw more places for ambushes to occur. Almost unconsciously, he rode closer to Arslan’s side, eyes roving across the terrain religiously.

He’d honestly thought his increased diligence had been subtle, but after the fifth suspicious glance from the young king, Daryun knew he had failed to conceal his suspicions fully. He worked harder to appear more relaxed, but the damage had already been done. Arslan moved his horse that much closer to Daryun, tilting his head curiously, even as his eyes shone with worry.

“Is everything alright, Daryun?” He asked gently.

“Yes, your Highness. Of course,” he answered promptly, but Daryun had never been a very good liar, especially not when it came to Arslan.

The king very obviously didn’t believe him. Daryun just diverted his gaze and kept riding, ignoring Arslan’s suspicious looks. He couldn’t tell the man of his worries just yet. For all they knew, one of the soldiers in their company could very well be a double agent. No, Daryun could not voice his suspicions in the open like this. It would just have to wait.

The scenery around them continued to change as the day dragged on. Finally, they reached the Tygrus river just before dusk fell. The troop stopped near the river bed and decided to call an early end to their day, setting up camp well before the sun had fully set. By the time they’d settled into their own tents, dressed down for the night, and returned to the main fire, dinner was ready.

Not counting the guards on duty, everyone sat around the fire to eat. They passed the time with good food and good conversation, losing track of time as the last blushes of dusk faded into the dark night sky. One by one, they all started to break off to bed. Daryun moved to excuse himself and that's when Arslan made his move. 

“Actually, Daryun, I have something I need to discuss with you. In private.”

Arslan spoke with a smile on his face, but his tone conveyed something serious. Besides a few curious glances, no one made any remark as Daryun stopped in his tracks, bowing his head at the young king. 

“Yes, your Highness.”

He followed Arslan to his tent, ignoring the teasing look Narsus threw his way. However, Arslan looked serious enough that no one was tempted to tease any further. Once inside the tent, the king's demeanor dropped and he smiled something sly. Daryun raised his brows curiously. He noticed the extra set of bedding on the floor and looked up, question on his tongue. 

“I know something is going on. You believe someone is following us.” 

His eyes widened in surprise before he sighed, the tension in his shoulders dropping for the first time that day. 

“I always seem to forget how perceptive you are. My apologies, your Highness,” he bowed in apology. 

Arslan shook his head with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended. But I am concerned. Now, I know that you either planned to sleep outside my tent or, gods forbid, that you planned to not sleep at all.”

Daryun refused to agree, but his silence was agreement enough. Arslan sighed, somewhat fond, and sat on his own bedding. He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. There was some other emotion there, something unreadable. But it was gone too quickly for Daryun to question it. 

“So, let us skip the pretense and just sleep like this,” he motioned to the extra set of bedding in the tent. “It’s been a while since you were worried enough to accompany me in my quarters. But the tension surrounding you today was palpable, Daryun.”

Daryun had half a mind to argue. But he couldn't come up with a reasonable enough excuse, so he sighed in defeat. Putting aside his own feelings, this solution was preferable. 

“I understand. You have my thanks. This arrangement is best.”

Arslan smiled again, visibly relieved, but that strange emotion was back in his eyes. He refused to dwell on it. Instead, they both went on their way getting ready for bed. He shouldn't have been surprised to find that Arslan had already moved his bags into his quarters. The king always got his way, one way or another. 

There was a new tension present, one markedly different from the one during the day. It was a tension Daryun fought hard to ignore, a tension he wished he could simply will away. Neither of them spoke of it. Neither of them acknowledged it. It was as if they hoped by refusing to believe it was there, then perhaps it would vanish. But it didn't work that way, and they both knew it. That didn't stop them from trying. 

The tension remained, heavy between them, even as they lay on their own mats. Even as Arslan blew out the candle lights, shrouding them in darkness. Daryun took a conscious breath in and released it slowly. Across the tent, he could hear Arslan’s light breathing, could hear as the young man shuffle around to get comfortable. Daryun rolled onto his side, hand poised lightly over his sword, and willed himself to sleep.

He must’ve dozed for not more than a few hours before he was awake again, fully alert in seconds. His body moved on instinct and trained muscle memory, rolling to the side and raising his sword just as a dagger made its way to Arslan’s sleeping form.

The clang of metal on metal rang through the silent tent. Daryun growled and pushed back the intruder with ease. The perpetrator was dressed in all black, face shrouded save for their eyes, which shone bright with surprise. Good, so their ruse had worked; the assailant had no idea they’d been prepared for this strike. 

Daryun spared a quick glance back at Arslan. The king was sitting up, fully awake, hand already wielding his own weapon. The knight smiled at the fierce look in those blue eyes. It always pleased him to see what a fine warrior the man had grown into. But now was not the time to admire his king. He turned back to the assassin, bloodlust taking over as he charged forward and attacked.

Their blades met a few more times as Daryun forced him out of the tent and into the open campsite. The assassin lost his footing at some point and received a nasty gash on his arm for the misstep. That was when he ran. 

Daryun growled in frustration and chased after him, waking the rest of the camp as he went. The guards on duty rushed to his side, frustration and shock evident in their demeanor. It was good to know it hadn’t been an agent from within after all. Soon, he was joined by Narsus, Elam, Alfarīd and Farangis, and they chased the assassin to the edge of their campsite. He was loathe to let the perpetrator escape. 

The assassin came to a halt by the river. They had him cornered now. His uncovered eyes darted around frantically, hand clutching his bleeding arm, but there was no escape route. Arslan ran up behind him, sword clenched in his hand, and Daryun hesitated. That moment of hesitation was all it took. 

The assassin pulled something from his pocket, and threw it to the ground before anyone could react. An explosion of smoke blinded them long enough for the assassin to make his escape. Daryun rushed forward, striking through the shroud of smoke, but it was no use. The smoke cleared and the assassin was nowhere to be seen. Daryun sighed and lowered his sword.

“To be out maneuvered by such a cheap trick… I’m both amused and ashamed,” Narsus laughed, a self-deprecating sound.

“Sorry, I let him escape, didn’t I?” Arslan asked with a wary smile.

“No, your Highness, the fault is mine. I allowed myself to become distracted,” Daryun bowed his head in shame.

“No matter. What’s done is done. Let us return to bed, I doubt the injured assailant will make another appearance tonight.” 

Farangis ended the conversation rather gracefully, leading the way back to camp. Everyone followed her lead, but Daryun lingered by the river a moment longer. Arslan looked back, noting his absence, and called out to him with a smile.

“Are you coming, Daryun?”

“Of course, my king.”

He joined the group as they made their way back to their tents. Before he could divert to his own quarters, Arslan grabbed his wrist and directed him back to their shared tent. Daryun fought not to flush in embarrassment. There was no longer any tangible reason for them to sleep together. But neither of them would dare bring it up. 

He ignored the curious looks thrown their way and followed his king, like he always had, and like he always would.

 

\---

 

They set out again early the following morning. Their journey was simple: all they had to do was follow the river north and they should reach Ninua well before sundown. Nonetheless, Daryun couldn’t help but fret. They had no leads concerning the attack from the previous night. A sweep of the land before they left turned up no clues, and no identifying items had been left behind when the assailant fled.

As long as they remained ignorant of where the danger came from, danger then existed _everywhere_.

About midday, Arslan sent off Azrael with a message to Ninua, to notify the court of their imminent arrival. According to Narsus’ calculations, in the next hour or so, they should begin to see the walls of the city in the distance. 

The soil was rich along the riverbed, transforming the terrain around them into lush greenery. As they neared the city, they passed through more and more small villages, the people watching them pass with curious eyes. It just made Daryun ride that much closer at his king’s side. 

This trip was meant to be enjoyed; it was meant to serve as a bridge of peace between two estranged kingdoms. Unfortunately, they could no longer delude themselves into thinking it would be free of danger. He knew Arslan wanted nothing more than to believe the attack from last night wasn’t tied at all to Ninua. Indeed, it would be most fortunate if the distant city knew nothing of the masked assassin. Daryun would hate for them to have come all this way only to snatch Arslan’s hopes right from under him.

As the sun began its westward descent, the city walls of Ninua rose in the horizon. Narsus explained the grand architecture as they drew closer. Like Ecbatana, the city was surrounded by walls with various entrances at every side. Around the outer walls, the Tygrus river had been channeled into a moat that circled the city’s perimeter. 

Azrael flew high in the sky, greeting the envoy as they approached. Arslan held up his arm for the falcon to perch on, reaching for the new message he carried. The note contained a brief greeting and further directions as they made their final approach. They would be following the river to the gate closest to the royal palace, the Quay gateway. 

Arslan smiled and shared a lingering look with Daryun. That look contained many things: excitement, anxiety, the wish to trust but the wisdom to remain wary. Daryun knew his eyes must have conveyed the same emotions, although concern for his king would win out every time. For Arslan’s sake, though, he would strive to remain hopeful.

He could only pray that once inside those mighty walls, they’d be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter honestly would've been done sooner but 1. i had a conference to go to last weekend that ate up my time (i had no wifi for 2.5 days i was going thru withdrawls) and 2. i got my nails done...like long acrylic nails...and it took me 3 days to learn how to type with them and i STILL type slow as hell. so yeh this took forever.
> 
> also daryun's pov is a lot more challenging to capture than arslan's idk fam but wrow the mutual pining is strong i hope yall are ready to die with me. sit down and buckle up, the ride's about to get Wildt

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr @[fratboyshiro](https://fratboyshiro.tumblr.com) if u wanna chat & support me thanks


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